


Since Day One

by TheBatchild



Series: Treasures of Durin [1]
Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: F/M, Pre-Movie, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-03 05:14:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBatchild/pseuds/TheBatchild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes what you need is right in front of you and goes unnoticed for far too long.  (Prequel to Treasures Lost and Found.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Little Sister, Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic will consist of five scenes depicting the development of the relationship between Nerys and Thorin, and each scene will consist of three chapters, for a total of fifteen chapters. Each scene will have a title that’s carried over the three chapters. Hopefully this is easy to follow. The scenes are all spaced several years apart from one another.
> 
> Just to set the record straight before I get any questions or flames about this, this fic, The Adventures of Tiny Astrid, and Treasures Lost and Found, are set in the movie canon where Balin and Dwalin are older than Thorin, and Thorin is a little older when Smaug attacks Erebor. I’m not using any specific ages or anything, but just in general. I am also aware that Balin and Dwalin are related to Thorin, but as it is a distant relation, it is likely not one that was considered, other than to say they were also from the line of Durin. If anyone wants anymore information behind my decision, send me a PM and I'll explain. I’m also taking some liberties with female dwarves since, you know, there isn’t a whole lot of information about them. Anyways, please enjoy the fic, and don’t hesitate to review or comment or send me a PM if you have any questions.

Thorin would have liked to been able to say he was used to the way Nerys behaved around her brothers, and the way her brothers behaved around her. He would have liked to say so, but it would have been a lie. Though, he was getting used to being surprised, if that was something someone could accomplish. 

When he opened the door to the house the siblings shared with their father one day, he was surprised to find the young dwarf girl tearing down the hall towards the front entrance. She smiled at Thorin before ducking behind him just as he shut the door. A second later, Dwalin appeared, his eyes locked on his sister’s face when she shoved some of Thorin’s hair out of the way and peered around his shoulder; she wasn’t yet tall enough to see over it. The dwarf prince didn’t have to be looking at her to know that Nerys would be trying to supress the mischievous grin she always had when she managed to get one of her brothers to chase her.

“What is going on?” he asked, turning slightly so he could see her. There was laughter in his voice.

She gave him that smile she was trying to hide, her sapphire eyes flashing, before transforming her expression into a pout—an expression more suited for her age than the grin that had come before. “I want to go hunting with you and my brothers!” Nerys exclaimed, rather loudly considering how close she was standing to Thorin. “But he won’t let me.” She aimed an accusing finger at Dwalin, the other hand on her hip. “He says I am too young.”

Thorin raised his eyebrows at Dwalin, who shrugged before crossing his arms over his chest. Before he could say anything else, however, they were joined by Balin, who looked equally exasperated though this request from Nerys, and this behaviour when it was refused, was nothing new. Having lost their mother to complications from Nerys’s birth and having a father who was increasingly occupied by his craft since the death of his wife, it had fallen to Balin and Dwalin to help raise their younger sister. She drove them crazy, but they were very protective of her, and she disliked being away from them for any extended length of time, especially when she had to be left in the care of someone else, which happened whenever her brothers went hunting. 

“You are too young, Nerys,” Balin said.

“I am not! I want to learn how to hunt,” she said, her attention focused on her oldest brother now. She moved out from behind Thorin completely, though didn’t advance quite so far as to put herself in front of him. “I want to learn how to use a bow, a sword—“

“Nerys.”

The stern statement Balin made of her name brought her up short. She pressed her lips together and stubbornly met his gaze, crossing her arms over her chest; the posture was identical to Dwalin’s. Thorin could see her bottom lip moving as she chewed on it and knew she wanted to keep talking. It seemed he’d walked in on the middle of the conversation.

“You can come with us next time little one,” Dwalin interjected, earning a bit of a glare from Balin. 

“When we are not headed so far from the mountain.” 

All three of Fundin’s children looked at Thorin when he spoke, three very different expressions on their faces. Nerys looked excited, Dwalin appreciative, and Balin annoyed. Thorin understood why the oldest sibling didn’t want Nerys any farther from Erebor than Dale—on top of her being a female and therefore usually kept from the world, she was very young, and untrained in any method of protecting herself—but he couldn’t see why he refused to teach her such skills. If Nerys wanted out of the shelter of Erebor, she’d find a way out, and it would be better that she knew how to take care of herself. 

Dwalin turned to Balin and said, “If we stay close and keep our eyes on her, it’ll be fine. She is smart like you, Balin, and will listen to what we tell her.” 

He looked at Nerys, who nodded so vigorously that her chestnut braids bounced against her shoulders. She reined herself in and tried to look like an obedient young girl. “I promise I’ll be good, Balin! Please, brother, say I can come with you when you go hunting next!” She crossed the room to stand in front of her oldest brother; Thorin noticed with some amusement that Nerys was almost the same height as Balin now.

Balin looked as if he would protest more, but only for a moment. With a sigh, he nodded. “But,” he said, before Nerys could get too excited, “You have to go to Dale today and you have to listen to everything Thorin, Dwalin, and I say when we are out in the woods.”

Her face split into a wide, wide grin and she gave a little bounce of excitement. “Of course! Thank you!” She flung her arms around Balin and then Dwalin, who ruffled her hair, and then she crossed back across the room to hug Thorin as well. “Thank you,” she whispered before smiling at him again. “Do I really have to go to Dale today?” she asked, turning around quickly enough for the skirt of her dress to flare outward.

Balin gave her another stern look, though one corner of his mouth pulled up in a smile. “Do not push your luck, Nerys.”

She beamed at him before running back down the hall, presumably to get her cloak for the short journey to Dale.

Balin turned his stern eyes to Thorin next, who held up his hands in a gesture of surrender before saying, “Apologies, but I recall it took some convincing for you to take another young dwarf hunting—”

“The difference, young prince, is that your father had already shown you how to handle yourself in the woods, and it was expected that you learn to hunt.” Balin held up the older brother act for another moment before he sighed. “But I know as well as you that Nerys would keep at it until she got what she wanted.” He turned his eyes to Dwalin. “I wonder why she feels she can get whatever she desires.” 

Dwalin spread his hands to either side and shrugged, a smile bordering on smug all over his face. “I have no idea to what you are referring, brother.” 

Balin rolled his eyes. “Of course not.”

“Are you two ready or not?” Thorin asked once the laughter had subsided, diverting the conversation to his original purpose for entering the house. “Your father and mine are waiting at the gates.”

Dwalin and Balin both nodded and retrieved their weapons belts just as Nerys returned, her dark blue cloak about her shoulders and her satchel strung across her chest. The group left the house and moved through the halls of Erebor, the laughter of the young surrounding them. At the gates, Nerys kissed her father’s cheek and bowed to Prince Thrain before running to catch up with the group of women leaving for the markets in Dale, leaving her brothers to inform Fundin of their plan to take her hunting.


	2. Little Sister, Part 2

Before the next full moon, Nerys found herself out in the woods on the western slope of Erebor, surrounded by her brothers and Thorin. It was just about midmorning, and the woods were full of life in the pale light; the day was overcast, but it was mild—a good day to be out hunting. The dwarves were on the trail of a doe and what looked like a pair of fawns. Dwalin was currently crouched low to the ground, pointing out the tracks and the signs that the deer had been nibbling on the grass in the area to Nerys, who was listening with attention more rapt that anything she’d put her mind to before. 

She was dressed like the boys, in breeches, a long tunic, and a leather coat, all in the colours of the forest. They were clothes that had once belonged to Balin and she wore several belts to hold them in place. Dwalin had given her a knife that sat at her hip and one that went in her boot, just in case, and she looked quite at home in the dirt and leaves, the thick braid of her hair hanging over her shoulder.

“Look at the tracks, Nerys. Which way did they go?”

She drew her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes narrowed in concentration, her mind running back through everything she’d been taught. She looked at the tracks and the faint trail she’d managed to find. “The deer went that way?” Nerys inquired, showing her companions just how quickly she could learn when she wanted to. 

“Why can you not put such dedication towards your other studies?” Balin asked, his exasperation only somewhat sincere.

Knowing she was correct, Nerys smiled a wide and proud grin. “Because I find them boring. This is exciting.”

The laughter that her response elicited was quickly quieted by movement in the leaves to their right, the direction the deer had gone. Nerys bounced to her feet and moved towards the noise, avoiding Thorin’s grasp when he tried to stop her from dashing towards it. 

“You will scare it off,” he hissed in her wake. 

She smiled over her shoulder at Thorin and waved away his concern as she continued forward, well aware that her brothers were rising to their feet behind her, weapons at the ready. Nerys slipped under the wide leaves of the bushes, out of sight and beyond their grasp, eager to investigate, to show what else she could do. Thorin rolled his eyes and ducked into the leaves after her, gesturing for Balin and Dwalin to remain close and at the ready. Too many dwarves tromping through the undergrowth would definitely scare off the game in the area. 

He made it to the opposite edge of the thicket before a hand wrapped around his wrist and pulled him down. Nerys was crouched low, just inside the leaves, shadows dappling her smiling face as she watched the herd of deer grazing not fifteen feet away.

“A whole herd… I wish I knew how to use a bow,” she whispered. She turned gleaming eyes to Thorin. “I’m going to try and get closer!”

“Nerys—”

But she was already moving, slinking through the bushes to their left; Thorin was impressed at how silently she moved, as it was not a trait neither of her brothers or her father possessed. He could just see the line of her face in the bushes farther ahead, the glint of silver from her knife—Thorin could see her plan before she moved and there was no time to stop her, to call out and tell her she was being a fool, not without causing a stampede. She crept out of the bushes, knife in hand, and moved towards the nearest doe.

One of the animals spotted her, cried out. The deer panicked and ran, the rear hooves connecting with Nerys’s stomach and sending her tumbling backwards. The deer closer to Thorin started to run, and the stampede started anyway. The herd would trample Nerys.

“Nerys!” he cried, moving towards her.

“Thorin!” She rolled onto her side, grabbed his arm as he reached her and let him pull her to her feet. “That was stupid,” she gasped when they were out of the way, out of danger. A burst of laughter escaped her lips as she got her breath about her, but she clung to Thorin’s arm where it was wrapped around her middle with both hands. She sounded a little delirious. “Stupid.”

“Really stupid,” Thorin agreed. He turned her around, his eyes scanning her for any obvious sign of injury. “Are you harmed?” He put a hand on either side of her face, his fingers brushing the soft hairs along the line of her chin. 

“Just winded.” She shook her head and had the grace to look ashamed, her eyes dropping to the ground. Thorin saw her as a younger sister, as someone to be protected, and he’d vouched for her ability to handle herself in the woods. She’d failed on that account, and she’d known it was foolish, but it was just too tempting. 

“What in Durin’s name happened?” Dwalin exclaimed as he reached Thorin and Nerys. There was a bloody axe in his hands and the carcass of a deer could be seen in the clearing beyond. Dwalin apparently hadn’t let the hunt go to waste. “Are you two all right?”

“We are fine, Dwalin.”

Balin ignored Thorin and moved up to check on his sister. “I told you that you were too young to come on a hunt, Nerys. You are too impulsive and stubborn and…” She closed her eyes and hung her head, but Balin put his finger under her chin and raised her eyes to his again. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes brother.”

“Then there is no harm done.” Balin looked from Thorin to Dwalin, both of whom nodded, picking up on the unspoken message. “Though we should head back to Erebor. It seems our hunt was successful after all and there are other matters to be seen to.” 

Nerys stood by and watched as her brothers and Thorin got the deer into a more manageable state to carry back to the mountain, playing with the end of one of her braids and trying not to feel too bad. Balin was right: no one had been hurt, but it had been a near thing and it had been her fault. Just as they started back towards Erebor, Dwalin and Thorin handling the dead beast, Dwalin smiled at his young sister, ruffling her hair as he walked by. 

“Don’t worry, little one. I will make sure you are better prepared for next time.”


	3. Little Sister, Part 3

Most of the trek back to Erebor was done in silence, Balin, Dwalin, and Thorin taking turns lugging the heavy doe over and across the grass and rock. Nerys followed behind, her exuberance reduced after nearly being trampled. There seemed to be some residual shame as well, since she’d known going after the deer on her own was a bad idea. She’d also apologized to Balin again, and he had told her there was nothing to worry about, though he was still a little angry. As they walked however, Nerys’s energy began to return and by the time they were halfway back to the mountain, her face was split in a wide grin and she spent as much time walking as spinning around in circles and staring up at the sky until she fell down—something she had done since she was old enough to walk. 

“Do you think Balin will ever let me join in on a hunt again?” she asked Thorin as he walked up beside her, watching her spin. “He’s still mad.”

Thorin looked behind to her brothers, currently deep in conversation about something as they carried the carcass between them. “Perhaps. If you show him you are willing to learn to follow directions.”

She stopped spinning and looked at Thorin, wavering a bit on her feet. Her face had fallen back to a frown, but she met Thorin’s gaze, her blue eyes wide with what might have been shock. “You are angry with me as well.”

He gave a small sigh and started walking again, forcing Nerys to move as well, or else fall behind. “I am not angry, Nerys, but you are like a sister to me and to see you put yourself in danger like that… I told you to stay put. I told you getting too close would scare the deer.”

Nerys blinked at the hardened tone of Thorin’s voice. “I am sorry, Thorin. If I am ever allowed to join in on a hunt again, I will listen to what you, Balin, and Dwalin tell me. I liked being out in the woods and I think I would like hunting.” She gave him a cheeky grin. “Provided I don’t mess it up again.”

Thorin couldn’t stop the smile from tugging at his lips. “I would not speak to Balin like that, were I you.”

Nerys nodded and gave him a bright smile before she started spinning again, her arms spread out to either side. This earned another sigh from Thorin, who was pretty sure the young dwarf girl still wasn’t getting just how close she’d come to being trampled and who still wasn’t understanding how important it was to listen to the more experienced hunters. Her enthusiasm was good, but it might also get her killed. After a moment of rotation, she tumbled to the ground and laid on her back, nearly hidden by the grass, her laughter startling some birds into the air. She pointed at some darker clouds rolling in over the trees.

“I think it’s going to rain.”

Thorin chuckled despite himself and helped her back to her feet. “There isn’t much that will dim your spirits, is there?”

She clung to his arm while her head steadied and then took off spinning again, faster this time, her braid swinging out in an arc behind her. When she fell, a loud huff followed, like the impact had driven the air from her lungs. “I like the rain!” Another burst of air sounded, this one more like a rough laugh, a forced laugh. When next she spoke, her voice had changed. “Dwalin says our mother liked the rain as well.” 

Nerys remained silent and lying on the grass a little longer this time, long enough for Thorin to grow slightly concerned and move to stand at her side. She was watching the sky, her face blank, but after a moment she took his offered hand and let him pull her to her feet. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly when she was upright. 

They started walking again, moving at a leisurely pace and not bothering to catch up with Balin and Dwalin, who had moved ahead of them despite towing the body of the deer. Nerys stopped spinning as she moved, and a thoughtful look had taken over her face. 

“Did you ever meet my mother?” Nerys asked suddenly. 

Thorin was slightly taken back by the question, since it wasn’t a topic Nerys often brought up. It wasn’t a topic any of Fundin’s children liked to discuss. “Once that I recall, right before you were born,” he answered warily. 

“So… you would not be able to recall much of her then.” 

The dwarf prince wanted to be able to answer the questions Nerys had, but they were too close in age for his memory of her mother to be anything other than a dim sort of impression; his memory of his own mother was hard enough to remember. “Why not ask your brothers or your father if you want to know more about her?”

“Father will not talk about her. Whenever someone mentions her, father will disappear into the forge for days, sometimes longer. And talking about her with Balin and Dwalin… it makes them sad.” She smiled at Thorin, though the gesture was slightly more forced than before. “It is no matter.”

“It may not be what you are looking for, Nerys,” he said after a moment, “but I do remember that I liked your mother.”

Her smile quickly brightened and she playfully bumped against Thorin, knocking him a bit to one side. He laughed and moved to wrap an arm around her shoulders, but she ducked underneath and ran ahead, shrieking with laughter when Thorin gave in to the game and started after her. Though he was taller and his stride longer, Nerys was faster and she reached Dwalin and Balin first, putting her brothers between her and Thorin. They ran circles around them for a moment before Balin put a stop to it by pointing out they were nearly back to Erebor. Nerys rolled her eyes, but stopped running when they joined the traffic on the road into the mountain. She fell back in stride beside Thorin.

“Thank you.”

He looked down at her and ruffled her hair as Dwalin sometimes did. “You are welcome.”


	4. Two Swords and a Bow, Part 1

Fundin hadn’t been crazy about the idea of Dwalin teaching Nerys how to use a sword. It wasn’t a common practice among the female dwarves, but he knew his daughter as well as anyone—regardless of his increased absence from the lives of his children—and Nerys had never taken to anything except cooking, hunting, and weapons training, and she wasn’t one to give up until she had what she wanted or a firm no against it. A firm no was something Fundin hadn’t been able to give. 

Dwalin and Balin had both been in training since they were strong enough to hold a sword, and Nerys was several years beyond her disastrous first attempt at hunting and had shown she was, in fact, capable of following directions. So Fundin had finally given in, on the condition that one of her brothers was always with her when she was practicing and that she not train with anyone else.

Unsurprisingly, Nerys had been more than ready to agree to those conditions. 

Currently, Dwalin and Nerys were in one of the large rooms where the royal guard trained, deep inside Erebor. The room was kept dry, warm, and light thanks to several large stone fire pits, burning hot and smokeless. The dwarves needed no more adjustment to the natural temperature than that. There were a few others milling about, and another young dwarf training at the other end of the room, but the siblings had their end to themselves. The others who might use the room all knew to give Nerys a wide berth—it had taken all of one mishap for all to learn that lesson. 

“Hold your arm a little closer to your body,” Dwalin said, moving in from the sidelines to correct the position of her limb. “And swing from your hip, not your shoulder.”

Nerys nodded and attacked the wooden target in front of her once Dwalin had moved out of the way. The blade connected with a solid thunk, vibrations working up and down her arm in response. She didn’t let it stop her though. She pulled back and attacked again, swinging in from the other side, just as Dwalin had shown her several weeks before. They always ran through the basics at the beginning of each session, just to warm up and to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything from the previous lessons. Forgetting details tended to be a problem. 

Without any further prompting from her brother, she ran through the established sequences of attacks, one after the other, pausing only briefly to adjust her starting stance and to take a breath. She was quite dedicated to her pursuit and had picked up the basics of swordplay quicker than anyone had expected her to, though she was far from ready to face any serious foe.

“That was good,” Dwalin said when she’d finished the attack drills. “But you’re still swinging mostly from the shoulder. It’ll feel faster, but it’s a weaker stroke and it can loosen your grip.” 

She looked a little downtrodden, but met her brother’s eyes and gave a small nod. Nerys gave her head a little shake, pushing the stray strands of hair not captured in her braid back from her face. The beads on smaller braids behind her left ear made a tiny clinking noise as she moved. She took a few steps back and swung the sword again, concentrating on where the force was coming from, on the movement of her body.

“Aye, like that. Run through your sequences again with all your strikes exactly like that with one hand and then the other. Then we’ll move onto something new.”

She was slower this time, but the sound Nerys’s sword made when it connected with the practice target were deeper, the wooden man wobbling quite violently with the best hits. When she switched her blade to her left hand, the attacks slowed more, but hit with no less force. It had been some weeks since Dwalin had first started having her run the drills with both hands and her grip had mostly acclimatized. When Nerys finished, she was breathing much heavier and her arms and hands were buzzing with the memories of the impacts. But there was a smile on her flushed face and a light in her eyes that bordered on wild. 

“You had best be careful Dwalin,” a deep voice said, approaching them from across the room. “Your poor sister looks as if she is about to collapse.”

Dwalin laughed at Thorin’s comment, but Nerys turned and narrowed her eyes at him. “I am doing just fine. Dwalin was just about to teach me something new.”

Thorin took up a spot near the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. There was a smile on his face as he exchanged a look with Dwalin, one Nerys couldn’t follow. “Please do not let me stop the lesson then.”

Nerys’s face flushed with something other than exertion, but she turned back to her brother, who met her eyes with a quirk of his lips and his eyebrows raised. Her face flushed darker and she shot a scowl at the young men. Dwalin took the sword from her and replaced it with two wooden swords, both weighted as if they were real blades. As Dwalin took up two wooden swords of his own, any questions Nerys might have had regarding the switch in the weapons vanished—her practice sword might have had its edge dulled, but it could still leave a nasty welt, or even break skin—she had the scabs to prove it. It was not ideal for sparring.

“I presume you haven’t brought this idea up with father,” she said, trying to get a feel for having a weapon in each hand.

Dwalin shrugged, holding his swords with an ease born of practice. “It was a last minute decision. Besides, it’ll be easier to teach you what I’ve already learned, little one, and no one here is going to tell.” 

Nerys cast a quick look to Thorin, who smiled at her in a way that made it impossible for her not to return the gesture, even as her cheeks darkened again. She moved the blades around some more and then mirrored Dwalin’s stance, doing everything she could to prepare herself to put up a fight. It wasn’t the first time they’d sparred with the wooden blades, but it was the first time she’d had two weapons.

After inhaling a deep breath and exhaling slowly, Nerys nodded at Dwalin and he charged.


	5. Two Swords and a Bow, Part 2

“I do not think it wise, Nerys, especially when Dwalin is already pushing the limits of your father’s tolerance—”

She made a loud huffing noise and kicked a rock into the grass, shoving her hands in the pockets of her cloak before continuing down the road towards Dale. The road was fairly crowded with dwarves from Erebor destined for the markets, but there seemed to be a bubble of space around the prince and his travelling companion as they walked near the edge of the hard-packed dirt. Nerys had been walking with a group of dwarf women around her age, but had broken away upon spotting Thorin. 

“He is hardly around anymore, Thorin; I have not seen him for almost a week. It should not matter what he thinks of the way I spend my free time. I do not want to learn to sew and cook and make household things.” She batted at the skirt of her dress as if it was to blame. “I want to learn to fight and hunt—I want to learn to shoot a bow.”

“Nerys, you are an excellent cook.”

That got a small smile out of her, but just barely. “Fine, I will admit that I enjoy cooking, but none of the rest of it.”

“You only feel this way because the responsibilities were forced on you.”

She shrugged, though the smile was still tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Perhaps, but that does not change the fact that I want to learn to shoot a bow and you are about the only dwarf I know who is capable of teaching me that skill, not to mention the only one who might be willing.”

Thorin sighed and looked sideways at the young woman. She’d been pestering him to teach her how to wield a bow for almost a month now, ever since she’d seen him firing at targets outside Erebor, and the questions had only become more insistent with Dwalin’s instruction in sword play. He remembered her mentioning a desire to learn to shoot from the hunting trip years beforehand—it seemed she was not going to let go of that desire. There was much of Dwalin’s personality evident in his younger sister. 

“At least be sure your brothers will be all right with it,” he finally said, barely supressing another sigh. 

-

Two days later, Nerys met Thorin on the small shooting range he’d set up some distance away from the city. Balin and Dwalin had both accompanied her, Dwalin significantly more excited to see how Nerys did with archery than Balin, who was still clinging to the idea that his sister would find a less dangerous hobby to occupy her time. 

“I fear we are rather a bad influence on her brother,” Balin said as he and Dwalin stood behind the range, watching Thorin adjust Nerys’s stance as she drew back the string of an empty bow. 

Dwalin shrugged with one shoulder. “At least now we know she’ll be safe, should she ever need to fight.”

“I suppose I should thank Durin that she has not yet tried to leave the safety of the mountain.”

“Do not speak so loudly. She may hear you.”

The brothers laughed for a moment before turning their attention back to the range, where the dwarf prince was still correcting Nerys’s stance, though there was now an arrow strung in the bow. Nerys’s face was bunched with concentration, but it softened when Thorin turned away, her eyes lingering on the dwarf prince until he faced her again, then she was all business. She nodded once, curtly in response to something he said and then her eyes were only for the target at the opposite end of the range. When she loosed the arrow, it fell short of the target by about five feet. It was also too far to one side.

“We may have something else to concern ourselves with,” Balin observed, catching his sister’s eyes lingering on Thorin once again. 

Dwalin only gave a small chuckle in response. 

Down on the range, Nerys drew another arrow from the quiver propped up beside her and tried to mimic the position Thorin had placed her arms in the first time. She inhaled another deep breath and loosed the arrow, flinching slightly when the string snapped. It flew a little straighter, but it overshot the target by a goodly distance. 

“Do not hold your breath when you shoot,” Thorin said, approaching her as she strung another arrow. “Breathe normally.” He moved to stand behind her, touched her shoulder gently to lower it. Nerys was glad Thorin was behind her and couldn’t see the blush working its way across her cheeks. “Keep your eye on the target, and when you fire, just relax your fingers on the string.”

Nerys drew a breath she tried to keep steady and made herself focus on Thorin’s instructions. She narrowed her eyes slightly at the target in front of her and made herself breathe. She let go of the arrow, drawing her hand all the way to her shoulder. 

The arrow sunk into the edge of the target.

Nerys gave a yell of excitement at the small triumph and grabbed another arrow. She repeated the success, the second arrow striking a tiny bit closer to the centre. The third arrow overshot the target again, but grazed the edge on its way by. The fourth landed in the opposite edge of the target. She hurried across the range to collect the arrows. 

“Slow down,” Thorin said when she returned, laughter in his voice. “Concentrate on your stance before each shot, just like in your sword drills with Dwalin.”

Nerys looked over her shoulder at her brothers and nodded. She was very mindful of her stance when she notched another arrow and drew it back. Thorin gave her a nod when she looked to him for approval, though he reached in to nudge her shoulder lower again. Five of her next six shots landed in the target, though they were widespread and all in the outer ring of the target, except for one which was about midway to the centre. 

Thorin walked with her to collect the arrows. “If you would like, after you get some more practice, you are welcome to accompany me on a hunt to try your hand at real targets.”

The young dwarf woman smiled as she gathered the arrows into her hand. She pushed some of her chestnut hair behind one ear. “I think I would like that. Provided my aim improves.”

They shared a laugh as they made their way back to the firing line.


	6. Two Swords and a Bow, Part 3

“You’ve improved much in the past month, little one.”

Nerys smiled through her heavy breaths at Dwalin, and wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her wrist, the wooden swords still gripped firmly in her hands. 

She’d taken to the dual swords with no small amount of enthusiasm and had progressed quickly, finding she quite enjoyed being able to wield two weapons at once. The same, however, could not be said for the bow. Nerys had put as much effort into her lessons with Thorin as she had with her brother—and perhaps a little more—but she just could not get the hang of it. She’d gone on a few hunting trips with Thorin—only to the forests around Erebor—and had even managed to bring down a deer with a couple shots. Her lessons continued sporadically as well, but she seemed to be lacking something. Nerys wasn’t one to give up though, and had no intention of doing so. Plus, it was becoming increasingly evident, at least to her brothers, that she enjoyed the company kept during those lessons almost as much, if not more, than the lesson itself.

“It seems I am meant for swords and axes over bows and arrows,” she said. Nerys shifted the wooden swords to one hand and ran her fingers back through hair, the beads in her braids chiming together as she pushed hair back from her face. 

“I agree, but it is not so surprising.” Dwalin gave her a wide grin. “There is not one of us who will choose finesse over strength.”

Nerys laughed and took another drink. 

After another moment of rest, the siblings took up their places at the opposite sides of the imaginary ring. Dwalin nodded at her and Nerys charged in, swinging both swords in from the side. The larger dwarf blocked the attack and used his superior strength to push Nerys back a few steps. She recovered quickly and came back in, keeping her blades low and doing her best not to telegraph any movement until the last second, when she brought one blade down towards Dwalin’s head. He blocked it, as she expected he would, and she used the moment to drive the point of her other sword forward, into his stomach. 

“Nicely done,” Dwalin grunted as they separated. 

Nerys smiled, though she knew Dwalin wasn’t fighting at full capacity. They’d tried that once and Nerys still had the bruises and the ache in her left arm to prove what a bad idea that was. As they reset to their starting positions, Nerys’s attention was drawn to the wall behind Dwalin where Thorin stood watching, his arms crossed over his chest. She felt the blush creeping across her cheeks and she hoped it was hidden under the flush of exertion; she dropped her gaze to the floor nonetheless. Noticing the chance in his sister’s demeanor, Dwalin looked over his shoulder to nod in greeting.

He had known it would be Thorin standing there. The dwarf prince was the only one capable of eliciting such a response from Nerys, though Dwalin wasn’t sure either of them was aware of that fact. 

The moment vanished quickly though when Nerys caught Dwalin’s eyes and nodded. 

They rushed to meet, the clacking of the wooden blades loud as it bounced off the stone walls of the room. During a moment when their swords were braced against one another as they struggled for the upper hand in the fight, Dwalin noticed the determined set of Nerys’s jaw and the slightly wild look in her eyes. She was putting all she had into that sparring match, and it was not hard to figure out why.

Dwalin blocked most of her attacks with ease, only taking a hit here and there to his arms. It wasn’t long until Nerys began to tire, her hits coming slower and with less force, though she kept pushing. 

“You should stop before you hurt yourself, little one.”

“Are you giving up?”

The older dwarf rolled his eyes and side-stepped her next attack, bringing one sword against the back of her knees as she moved past him. Nerys dropped heavily to the ground, wobbling on her knees for a fraction of a second before tumbling to one side and rolling onto her back. Both Dwalin and Thorin’s face appeared above her as she started to laugh. 

“If only you took to archery with the same fire,” Thorin said.

“It is hard for her, when her ‘fire’ is occupied with thoughts other than archery.” 

Dwalin’s voice was barely a mutter, but Nerys caught it anyway. She took up one of her wooden swords and slapped the flat of it against her brother’s shins, her cheeks flaring to life both with the thought that Thorin might have heard and understood, and the knowledge that her brother was aware of the way she’d begun to look at the dwarf prince. Dwalin cursed and took a step back, but there was a grin on his face.

Thorin helped Nerys to her feet when she started to move, and raised his eyebrows at her. She waved off the question and wished the colour would leave her cheeks already, but it only crept farther down her neck. 

Nerys bent to retrieve the other wooden sword and held the pair in one hand. “It seems you may have wasted your time teaching me archery, Thorin,” she said when she was upright and could look him in the eye. 

“We have only been at it for two months, Nerys, and you will not take to everything as easily as this,” he replied, gesturing at the swords in her hand. “If you no longer wish to—”

“I’m not giving up, but I may be a lost cause with the bow.”

“I doubt that very much,” Thorin said, moving around Nerys to grab one of the wooden swords Dwalin had been using, “but, as it appears your brother has decided he is done teaching you for today, why not show me what you have learned?” He raised his eyebrows again, this time an invitation rather than a question.

Nerys couldn’t keep the grin off her face as she watched Thorin take his stance several paces away from her. She pushed her hair back from her face before taking a blade in each hand again. She was tired and her muscles were beginning to protest, but she would give all she had in this match as well and curse her decision tomorrow. With a roll of her shoulders and neck, Nerys sank back into the stance that was becoming as familiar as breathing, her eyes glued to her new opponent. That look, touched with wildness, took over her eyes again and a beat of laughter escaped her lips when she saw a matching glint in Thorin’s eye.

She initiated the conflict and they fought until she could no longer lift the wooden blades.


	7. Confidante, Part 1

Spring had come late to Erebor, but it had been most welcome after an uncharacteristically cold winter that left the mountain and the road buried in snow for far too long. But it was finally warm enough to make venturing to Dale easy again, and Nerys had found she’d missed the markets, as much as she had hated to visit in years past. She felt as if she had been cooped up in Erebor for far too long. As soon as the road was clear and the weather fair enough, she trod the familiar path almost eagerly, enjoying the sunshine and hesitant warmth, despite some nasty-looking clouds building on the horizon. By the time she was making her way back to the mountain however, the temperature had increased enough that the dark clouds rolling in threatened rain instead of snow. Maybe even a thunderstorm. 

Nerys hurried back to the mountain, hoping to beat the rain, but when she was almost back she spotted Thorin walking in the opposite direction. A small smile danced across her face at the sight of him—that had been happening more and more—but she brought her expression in check as he approached, both so he didn’t see and because she realized the expression on his face was quite serious. There was something bothering the prince.

She fell instep beside him and gave him a small smile when he looked up to see who had joined him. One corner of his mouth lifted in response, but he turned his gaze back to the road in front of him. They didn’t say anything for quite some time as they headed back down the road towards Dale; Nerys knew as well as anyone not to push Thorin when something was eating at him.

“Thorin, what is the matter?” she asked when they’d almost made it to Dale.

Sometimes, she didn’t know how to wait long enough. 

Thorin chuckled, light filling his face for a brief moment at the characteristic trait of Nerys’s. It was a while before he answered, and Nerys could see the internal battle as he decided if sharing the information with Nerys was a good idea. “It may be nothing,” he said once the laughter had faded and the serious look had reappeared. “But Grandfather has been spending a great deal of time staring at piles of gold, at the Arkenstone. He has made all sorts of claims about why, but it appears…”

“He has the dragon sickness?”

Thorin stopped walking, and Nerys did a fraction of a second later, turning to face the dwarf prince. She barely caught the motion of his head as he nodded, and she moved a step closer to place a hand on his arm. “I think he does,” he whispered. 

Balin had told Nerys stories about the dragon sickness, the intense fascination with gold and treasure that took hold of some dwarves. He had told her the sickness was the same as the one that affected the dragons and filled them with the desire to build up their hoards—hence the name. She’d thought it was ridiculous when she was younger—dwarves being affected by the same illness as the terrible beasts?—but then Nerys had seen it in some of the dwarves who spent their days mining and pulling raw ore up from the depths of the mountain. She’d seen the gleam in their eyes and the tension in their bodies whenever they had to part with the treasure. It scared her to see those dwarves losing who they were for gold. It scared her to think it was happening to someone so important to her people, to someone so important to Thorin.

“Is it possible you are mistaken?” she asked, voice quiet and hopeful. Her hand was still on his arm. 

Thorin sighed as he thought about it, but he shook his head. “I do not think so. If you could see his face, Nerys…” He sighed again, a rougher noise, and turned away, starting along the faint path leading off the road, towards the river. She followed. “He is forgetting himself,” Thorin continued, almost as if he’d known Nerys would follow. “He forgot Father’s face, his own son, and he has not been tending to any of his duties as king.”

Nerys didn’t know what to say, so she remained quiet as they approached the riverbank. “Balin has been spending more time in court. Is that why?”

“Yes. Your brother has become invaluable to the court.”

She sensed something in his tone that made her sigh as she moved up beside him again. “Thorin… what happened?”

She saw his face redden, saw the anger before he yelled. “He… forgot my face! He forgot he was king! He forgot everything! For a few moments, it was like he was not there—all he saw was the gold.” Thorin picked up a rock and threw it into the river. The splash was loud and echoed in the silence, silence that hung heavy and tense for a while after the noise faded. When Thorin looked at Nerys again, he gave her a small, apologetic smile, though there was still anger in his eyes. “I am sorry Nerys. I did not mean to let everything out like that.”

She waved away the apology. “There is nothing to apologize for, Thorin. This is a serious problem and if you need someone to talk to about it, then I can do that for you. I will not tell anyone what you suspect of King Thror, not even my brothers. If you would like me to pretend as if this conversation never took place, I can do that as well.”

Thorin moved closer and squeezed her shoulder. “Balin and Dwalin are aware, Nerys. They are my closest friends. But I do appreciate your offer of discretion and that you have let me speak of this. Your brothers are not the best listeners.” 

Nerys laughed, because it was true. “Listening was not a skill I learned from them.” 

Thorin opened his mouth to reply, but it was that moment when the rain started. Thunder rumbled overhead and the dwarves looked up to see the first bolts of lightning light the sky. Nerys closed her eyes as the first drops of rain hit her cheeks and laughed again, since she had been so concerned about outrunning it a few moments ago. The rain didn’t pick up, so Thorin and Nerys walked back down the path to the road and started back towards Erebor.


	8. Confidante, Part 2

The rain remained fairly calm as Thorin and Nerys made their way along the path to the road. Thorin pulled up his hood once they were free of the trees and Nerys pulled her hair back from her face, letting the rain run along her skin. They walked calmly towards Erebor while the others on the road hurried in either direction, hoping to avoid getting too soaked. The thunder and lightning picked up, as did the wind, but they still didn’t hurry. Nerys kept looking up at the dark clouds when the lightning flashed and she laughed when the thunder rumbled particularly loudly and Thorin kept shaking his head, a slight grin on his face.

“It’s been a long time since we had a storm like this,” she said, spinning a couple times as she walked, her arms spread out to either side, droplets of water flying from the ends of her braids. She’d meant to keep quiet and let Thorin think, but the silence was starting to get to her.

“You have always enjoyed thunderstorms. Dwalin used to have to run after you whenever it rained and bring you back inside.” Thorin smiled at a memory that came to him then. “Once you hid so well from him that Balin and I had to join in the search and when we finally found you, you had curled up between some rocks and fallen asleep.”

A small smile flickered across her face as Nerys turned to face him and walked backwards down the road. She cocked her head to one side, her brows drawn together. Several emotions were playing across her face. “How in Durin’s name do you remember that? You are only a few years older than I am and I was only seven or so.”

He shrugged. “It was amusing.”

Nerys laughed and bumped her shoulder against Thorin’s as she realigned herself to walk beside him. As they walked on, Nerys started to see the serious expression take over his face again. She could see the anger in the slight furrow to his brow, the way he flexed his jaw as he replayed sights and thoughts in his head. He might have been smiling and laughing at her antics and at the memories, but he was still thinking about his grandfather and the illness that was very likely befalling the dwarven king. For a while, Nerys manage to content herself with walking in silence, her hands deep in the pockets of her cloak. 

“I am sorry there has not been time for an archery lesson lately,” Thorin said suddenly, something in the tone of his voice telling Nerys that this wasn’t the first time the thought had occurred. 

Regardless, Nerys was slightly taken aback by the apology. “There is no need to apologize, Thorin. You are the prince. I never really expected these lessons to be a regular thing once you started taking on more princely duties. And now, you have more important things to concern yourself with.” She bumped her shoulder against his again. “I will be here when you have time for another lesson.”

“I am still sorry. I do enjoy our lessons.” 

“I do as well.” She looked away, letting her wet locks cover the blush on her cheeks. 

They made it a few more steps before the rain picked up and started hammering the ground, turning the dirt to mud. Thorin grabbed Nerys’s hand as the wind and thunder joined the increased chorus and they ran back to the mountain, Nerys laughing as she pushed herself to keep up with the taller dwarf. They reached the gates of Erebor, but instead of heading inside, they found a spot a few paces to the side, mostly sheltered by some evergreens and an outcropping of rock from the mountain. Nerys looked at him curiously as they settled against the rock and Thorin pulled his hood off. He shrugged and turned his face back to the storm, watching the pines whip around in the storm.

Lightning lit the sky and thunder rumbled directly overhead. Nerys almost asked Thorin why they hadn’t gone inside—the storm was even getting too intense for her—but she kept her mouth shut and leaned against the mountainside beside the dwarf prince, her arms folded behind her. It took her all of three seconds to realize that Thorin probably didn’t want to go in and have to face what was waiting. She couldn’t even imagine what it would feel like to have to watch your grandfather start to slip away, to forget who he was, to forget your face. Biting her lip against what was possibly a bad idea, Nerys reached out and wrapped her hand around his.

Thorin started, the contact bringing him out of whatever thoughts had had his attention. He looked down at her hand and gave hers a small squeeze before meeting her eyes again. “I did not intend on telling anyone else about my grandfather,” he said. 

“Should I apologize?”

He shook his head, that same small grin he’d had while watching her in the rain playing across his face, this time accompanied by a quiet chuckle. “Not at all, but this… this is not the first time I have told you something I had planned on keeping to myself.” Thorin squeezed her hand again, but the action seemed more unconscious this time. 

Several replies crossed Nerys’s mind and she felt her cheeks flush again, though Thorin hadn’t said anything especially complimentary or personal. She squeezed his hand and dropped her eyes to the grass in front of her feet and willed the blood to leave her cheeks. “I… I am happy to listen, Thorin, although I may not have intelligent things to say, or any advice to give.” Realizing the blush wasn’t going to leave her cheeks, Nerys looked up and met Thorin’s eyes. “But I will listen.”

“I know, Nerys.”

They held each other’s gaze for a few seconds longer before Nerys smiled and said, “I’m going to head inside now. The wind is getting cold.” She pulled her hand away from Thorin’s and pulled her hood up over her already sopping hair as she stepped away from the stone. “You should not stay out too much longer, either. The storm is just getting worse.” 

She started back towards the gates, but had only made it a short while before Thorin joined her. He didn’t say anything, just touched the back of her shoulder to announce his presence. When they were in the safety of the mountain and all that was left of the wind were the eerie howls slipping through the mountain, they parted ways, Thorin headed to the royal chambers and Nerys down several levels lower to the family home. She remained standing on the path for quite some time, watching Thorin until he disappeared from view, her mind reeling through the events of the last hour or so.


	9. Confidante, Part 3

The storm continued on into the night, at points so violent that the thunder could be felt even deep within the mountain. Nerys heard it more than most of the other dwarves, but she was having trouble sleeping and has spent most of the night just lying in bed, staring at the dancing shadows the braziers cast on the ceiling. It seemed that every time she managed to actually fall asleep, it was light enough that the storm or a noise from within the house would awake her shortly after. 

The third time she awoke from her light slumber, she gave up on the pretense of sleep and climbed out of bed. She retrieved her coat from her chest of drawers, savouring the warmth as she slipped her arms through the sleeves and buttoned it around her nightgown; it had been hours, but she still hadn’t warmed completely from her time out in the rain. Nerys pulled her hair free of the coat and pulled on her boots. She moved as silently as she could manage through the house, until she was standing in the halls of Erebor once more and could walk without fear of waking anyone. 

She wasn’t going anywhere in particular, so she tucked her hands in her pockets and started walking. There were still some awake—mostly members of the guard, but she saw a few younger dwarves, a few smiths or miners—but she was pretty well alone. No one spoke to her as she meandered through the halls, leaving her alone with her thoughts, which were still mostly about the previous evening.

Nerys had realized her feelings for Thorin had been growing for quite some time, but she’d kept them to herself. She was pretty sure her brothers knew, not that she had ever been able to hide much from them, but that was it. She’d almost told Thorin while walking back to Erebor, though she wasn’t sure what had compelled her towards revealing her feelings. They were still young and it would be years, years before they were considered old enough to wed, and that was if Thorin returned her feelings or wanted to wed.

 _You are getting too far ahead of everything Nerys,_ she told herself firmly. _Best just to remain a friend._

She forced herself to be content with that thought, and she was. 

At least, until she ended up in the throne room of Erebor, standing at the foot of the dais, looking up at Thorin. The dwarf prince was staring at the Arkenstone, the cold white light from the gem casting eerie shadows on his face. Nerys remained quiet, her arms folded under her chest. Her eyes never left the lost look on Thorin’s face.

“What are you doing here?” Thorin asked, his voice rough. He did not turn around.

“I could not sleep.”

He said nothing, and in the silence they could hear the thunder rumbling. Since the throne room was fairly high up and in a cavernous room, the storm was louder there than anywhere else in the mountain. Nerys looked from Thorin, to the Arkenstone. She stared into the shifting blue and red and white and gold and wondered if she would ever face the dragon sickness, or if any of her brothers would. She wondered if it was something Thorin would succumb too like her grandfather. She wondered what it was about that stone, about the gold that filled Erebor that so captured some dwarves. 

“Nerys.”

She snapped out of her reverie and looked at Thorin again. He had turned and was looking down at her from the top of the dais, his face mostly lost to shadow. She almost felt like she should leave him to his thoughts, but she remained still and met those dark eyes. “Yes?”

Instead of answering however, he just reached out. She put her hand in his and climbed the steps, letting him lead her around the back of the throne and along the path to the balcony overlooking the largest of the treasure rooms. Nerys didn’t say anything as they walked, or as they entered the large room, lit chiefly by the glow of firelight reflecting off the piles of gold. Thorin let go of her hand and she approached the edge of the balcony, knowing what she would see before her eyes took in the sight of King Thror in his dressing gown and bare feet padding around the room, occasionally stopping to pick up a piece of treasure and just stare longingly at it. He didn’t look like the king at all; there was nothing behind his eyes. She watched for some time, as much as she could bear, aware of Thorin standing close behind, his eyes also glued to the room below. 

When she’d seen enough, she walked from the room, back out onto the suspended pathways of the throne room and stopped about halfway back to the centre of the room. Thorin stopped a few feet away from her and she met his heavy gaze. 

“Thorin, I am so sorry this has happened,” Nerys said, moving a little closer. She had wrapped her arms around herself again, against a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. There was something tight in her chest.

“It is still early.” Thorin shook his head as if the words meant nothing and he shouldn’t have said them. He looked so lost and confused. 

Nerys moved closer still, until she could reach out and wrap her hand around his upper arm and give a comforting squeeze. Against her will, a couple tears started to slide down her cheeks. Thorin lifted his hand and wiped the tears away with his thumb, first from one cheek than the other. She made herself smile up at him as he tucked some her hair behind her ear, the beads on her braids clinking softly. 

Her desire to just be a friend to Thorin had faded somewhere between the initial thought and then. She wanted him to know how she felt, that she cared for him deeply, that he didn’t have to struggle with this alone, though he probably would regardless. But she could tell that now was not the time. So she bit her lip to keep from saying anything and closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. He returned the embrace, the height difference meaning his face was pressed into the hair above her ear. 

“I am sorry I showed you that,” Thorin said when they parted. His voice was quiet. 

“You wanted to share the burden with someone who was not family. I understand and I…” Nerys swallowed, forced herself to keep looking at Thorin, despite the red in her cheeks and her surety that he would be able to read her thoughts in her eyes. “I am willing to be that person.”

Thorin placed his hand on her shoulder by the base of her neck. “I know.” He placed a soft kiss on her forehead as he passed her on the walkway. “Come Nerys, I will walk you home. It is late.”

Nerys nodded and followed, her hands in the pockets of her coat again.


	10. To Esgaroth, Part 1

The summer after the discovery of the dragon sickness plaguing King Thror, Nerys found herself in an unexpected situation. 

Every year towards the end of the summer, just as the leaves were beginning to turn, the dwarves of Erebor put together a trading convoy bound for Esgaroth, the city on the shore of The Long Lake, some distance south of the mountain. The lakeside city was a hub for goods from the elves of the Greenwood and the villages of men around the lake, and there was a high demand for the weapons and gems forged by the dwarves. Balin and Dwalin had accompanied Thorin and his father for the past three years; they weren’t really considered old enough to travel, but Esgaroth was not too far and the convoy was quite large. 

That year however, Balin was preoccupied with the courtly duties he had been learning and was unable to make the trip. Dwalin had asked Nerys if she wanted to come and she’d instantly agreed, despite having to dress like a man and conceal her identity as a female dwarf from the world. There was some bickering with Balin over the idea, but Nerys and Dwalin eventually won; they had run the idea past Fundin as well, but their father had agreed without much thought, only putting forth the stipulation that Dwalin keep an eye on her. 

So, dressed in a specially-made tunic and breeches, Nerys pulled her hood low over her face and fell in step between Dwalin and Thorin, her swords on her hips and a smile on her face, though no one could see it. The swords had been a birthday gift from her brothers, given with the knowledge that they thought her capable of handling herself in a real fight, should the need arise. 

“There should not be any reason to use our weapons on this trip,” Dwalin said once they’d been walking for a while. “But it is possible orcs will come down from the north, or all manner of nasty creatures from the Greenwood.” 

Nerys frowned at her brother, turning her head so he could see the expression despite the hood. “There is no point in trying to scare me, Dwalin. I am already part of this convoy and I am not turning back now.”

Thorin chuckled from her other side as Dwalin replied, “I was not trying to scare you, little one, just prepare you for what might happen.”

“Oh, of course! How silly of me to assume you would try to scare me.” She stuck her tongue out and then smiled at her brother. 

“You two were not planning on doing this the entire way to Esgaroth, were you?” Thorin inquired. 

Nerys turned and punched Thorin playfully in the shoulder and the trio dissolved into a few moments of laughter, Thorin and Nerys sharing a more private grin when the laughter had faded. 

An animalistic shriek tore through the air then, bringing the convoy to silence and, slowly, to a halt. More cries filled the air, followed by roars and screams in a guttural language that could only belong to one race on Middle Earth; Nerys glared at Dwalin as if was his fault they were about to be attacked. Dwalin pulled his axes over his shoulders, Thorin drew his massive sword, and Nerys cautiously brought her blades into her hands, looking to either of her companions for an explanation. 

“Orcs,” Dwalin spat, making the word like a curse. 

The first beast appeared then, lunging from the trees on the side of the road. Dwalin ran to initiate conflict, several other armed members of the convoy doing the same. Thorin yelled for the convoy to start moving again and then ran to join in the building fray. Nerys swallowed the sudden lump of fear, shook her hood back so she could see, and tightened her grip on her swords. She didn’t run into the battling mass of dwarves and orcs, but she was ready when a new assailant appeared to her left.

She heard him before she saw him, his snarling and snapping cutting through the slight fog of fear that had begun to clog her mind. Nerys spun away from his first attack, raising one sword to block the roughly fashioned blade. The orc said something in its language that could only be an insult and advanced again, bringing its weapon down towards Nerys’s head. She caught the attack with one blade and knocked it aside, taking advantage of the opening she’d created to lunge forward with her other sword and drive the point into the orc’s unarmoured side. 

The beast howled, but didn’t stop or retreat. It slammed one meaty fist into Nerys’s arm and she bit off a scream and managed to keep her grip on her sword though her entire arm was buzzing with the impact. She swung her other sword at the orc’s knee, the blade digging in until it hit bone. Nerys ducked under the orc’s arm and spun away, using the moment to yank her blade free. Now behind and to the side, she was able to drive her sword up into the orc’s heart from behind, thick black blood pumping franticly out and down her blade. 

As she pulled her sword free from the corpse, she heard more snarling behind her. Driven by the confidence of her first kill, the dwarf woman tuned to meet the new attacker. 

She didn’t turn quite fast enough. 

The blade bit into her side beneath her cloak, the pain sudden and shocking. The orc pulled its weapon free and made to attack again, but Nerys somehow managed to pull herself enough together to step away and raise her bloodied weapons again. She focused on her target and found that the pain of her wound sort of faded. 

“Dwarf women shouldn’t fight,” the orc snarled. “Should stay at home.”

Nerys didn’t bother wasting energy on a response. She threw herself forward, putting all she could into the attacks and trying to ignore the vibrations that ran through her arms and straight to her wound with every hit of metal on metal. She took another hit on her shoulder, but managed to bring the second orc down as well when her sword pierced its gut and she closed the distance between them, driving her blade in almost to the hilt. 

When she turned to find another opponent, she saw several bodies scattering the ground. There were still a few fights going on, but her assistance no longer seemed like it was needed. So, remembering her brother’s words, she knelt and wiped the fresh blood from her swords before returning them to their sheaths at her hips. She stumbled as she pushed herself back to her feet, but the world began to clear as she forced herself to breathe even and slow and the pain became more prominent as she waited for Dwalin and Thorin.


	11. To Esgaroth, Part 2

Some of the armed dwarves stayed behind to gather the orc bodies and burn them after seeing if there was anything they could learn about why they had attacked. The rest hurried to catch up with the convoy, where they called a halt and began a thorough check of the cargo and the dwarves driving the convoy to find if anyone or anything had been damaged. The air around the convoy had become significantly tenser and everyone’s eyes were glued to the trees on either side of the road, looking and waiting for signs of another attack. Even the animals pulling the carts were scared, huffing and stamping at the ground. 

Nerys was in pain, but it had become bearable. Her shoulder had stopped bleeding, and compared to the gut wounds a couple of the dwarves had taken in the quick fight, she was in pretty good shape and even started to help with the search, her hood pulled back over her face. They hadn’t lost anyone, but the group of orcs had not been that large. Hopefully, with the quick medical attention, the injured dwarves would be fine and the count would remain at zero. 

It was Thorin who noticed the blood on Nerys’s shirt as she climbed into a nearby cart to check the cargo. 

“Nerys, you are injured,” he said, climbing up after her. 

For some reason, she blushed. “It’s just a scratch.” She tried to wave it off, but the motion sent a wave of pain through her, one sharp enough that she couldn’t keep the wince from showing on her face. 

“Sit down.”

It was unmistakeably a command, so Nerys settled herself on the floor of the cart between the rows of boxes and crates, turned so her injured side faced Thorin. She leaned back against a large crate. He moved her cloak back and let her drape her arm over his shoulder so he could peer at the wound through the tear in her tunic. Nerys looked away, her face on fire both from Thorin being so close and from the embarrassment of being relatively exposed in public. His fingers were gentle as he examined the wound, but she still grimaced, and though she tried to hide it, he saw. 

“I do not mean to cause you further pain,” he said. “It appears you were lucky. The wound is just below your ribs and the bleeding has stopped, for the most part. Stay here.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but Thorin was already hopping out of the back of the cart. Nerys realized with a start that the convoy was moving again; she must have missed the lurch of movement with her thoughts so occupied by having Thorin close and her arm about his shoulders. The feeling of his fingers on her skin lingered. 

_Stupid girl,_ she thought harshly. 

Thorin returned quite promptly, a swath of clean white bandages in one hand and a jar of ointment in the other. He climbed back into the cart and set the medical supplies down beside Nerys’s leg. “Dwalin has moved to the back of the convoy to keep an eye open for anymore orcs. It should be him or another female who dresses your wound, but—”

Nerys couldn’t stop the giggle as she recognized embarrassment similar to her own in Thorin’s face. He looked at her, his eyes narrowed a bit. She smiled at him from the depths of her hood, nudging the fabric out of the way with her cheek so she could see him. “Thorin, you know how to properly deal with this wound, and I am comfortable around you. I would rather it was you than a woman I do not know.” 

Nerys pushed herself into a sitting position and lifted her tunic high enough to expose the wound. Thorin dropped his eyes to the jar and removed the stopper. The ointment was waxy and cold, but Nerys knew by the smell that it was meant to stave off infection and help the wound close quickly. Despite the pinching pain that emanated from the wound, Nerys found Thorin’s touch quite gentle and, as he began to wrap the bandage around her abdomen, ticklish. Goosebumps broke out across her skin while he worked, but she did her best to keep from laughing; she’d found it caused rather intense discomfort. She thought she heard Thorin chuckle quietly. 

When Thorin turned his attention to the cut on her upper arm, Nerys decided to try and make the situation a little less awkward for him. “Do you know why the orcs attacked?”

He didn’t look up as he wrapped another white bandage around her arm. “It was likely just a scouting or raiding party, just looking for food or fun. It happens sometimes.”

“Oh. I didn’t think they would come this far south.” 

“They do not often venture this far south.” Thorin pulled her sleeve over the bandage and when her cloak was hanging about her shoulder, it was nearly impossible to tell she’d been injured; the blood was the only giveaway. “You should rest. Drink some water.” He still didn’t look up as he spoke.

Nerys stared hard at the side of his head and made a slight scoffing noise. “I would rather walk. I promise I will have something to drink, but I will be bored if I have to ride in the back of a cart.” 

Thorin smiled in spite of himself and shook his head. “All right, but if you feel tired, you—”

“I will rest in the back of a cart.”

The smile spread between them. Thorin jumped to the ground with ease and walked along behind it while Nerys slid out much less gracefully, ready to catch her should she fall. She landed on her feet and smiled through the shock of pain. By the time they’d returned the ointment to the wagon where Thorin had found it though, her side has loosened and the pain was minimal. 

“Are you sure you are all right?” Thorin asked. 

“I am fine.” She bumped her shoulder against his arm and they smiled at each other again. “Thank you for not worrying my brother. I will tell him about the injury, but it is really nothing to worry about.”

“You are lucky he did not see it for himself.”

“He would have made a fuss about it. He and Balin are the same that way.”

“They do not like to see you hurt, Nerys.” Something in the tone of his voice brought her eyes up to his again. There was… something there that she hadn’t seen before. “And neither do I.”

Nerys had to drop her eyes to the road in front of her. “I am fine,” she repeated. It was all she could think to say.


	12. To Esgaroth, Part 3

Esgaroth was a city almost entirely constructed of wood. Most of it sat on the shore of the lake, but there were several long piers that extended into the water. They looked as if they had started life as docks, but had evolved into floating streets. There were large docks extending farther into the water, sitting slightly lower than the platforms holding up houses and shops. It was entirely unique, but then Nerys had only ever seen Erebor and Dale, cities made from stone. 

The market was in the centre of the city and it was huge, filled with humans and elves and dwarves and the noise that came with having so many people in one place. It smelled of meat and flowers and sweat and beer and everything one could imagine seemed to be for sale. Nerys had thought the evening hour of the dwarves’ arrival would mean the markets were empty or closed, but she was pleased to find she was mistaken.

She followed Thorin and Dwalin to the building where the dwarves would be staying and promised to remain there while they went with Thrain to speak with the Master of the city, something that was done on every trip. She also promised Dwalin she would rest; he had made a fuss over her wounds, despite them already been wrapped and on their way to healing when he found out about them. So Nerys pulled off her swords, cloak, and boots and climbed into the dwarf-sized bed she’d been given. She was asleep almost before her head hit the pillow, the exhaustion from the walk and from the adrenaline of the battle leaving her empty finally catching up. 

-

In the morning, Nerys found that someone had left her a clean shirt to wear, folded on the end of the bed. She changed into the dark blue garment and had just adjusted the way it sat when there was a knock at her door.

“Come in,” she said as she sat on the floor to pull her boots on; her side was stiff and sore and she didn’t even watch to try and sit on the bed and bend down to reach her laces. 

“Good morning,” Thorin said. “How do you feel?”

She raised a hand and huffed as he helped her to her feet. “Just stiff. It will loosen as I move around. How are the others who were injured?”

“They will be fine. They will have to ride back to Erebor tomorrow in the carts, but they will all recover with time.” Nerys nodded and smiled at the good news and pulled her cloak about her shoulders before belting on her swords. She was moving slower than normal, but Thorin didn’t press the issue. “Would you like some company while you explore the market today?” he asked, almost tentatively. 

She looked up, the shock she felt plain on her face. Shock that quickly gave way to a smile. “Yes. I would like that. There is no business for you to attend to today?”

“My father will be taking care of it. The only part he requests that I attend is the initial meeting with the Master.”

After grabbing a quick breakfast, they returned to the market to find it even busier than the night before. It appeared a group of elves had just arrived from the Greenwood and Thorin and Nerys passed a pair of females arguing rather loudly with some of the humans of Esgaroth. The black-haired elf looked ready to attack someone and the redhead had positioned herself between her companion and the humans, evidently to prevent any violence. Nerys almost wanted to stay and watch; she’d never seen an elf lose their cool like the black-haired one. Thorin kept her walking however, directing her towards the tables and carts and stands that had been set up to display the merchandise. 

Keeping her face hidden, Nerys perused elven jewelry, so delicate and light compared to the heavy bands and square designs of her people. There was one particular necklace done in silver and sapphires she admired. Her and Thorin spent a great deal of time examining the weapons some human merchants had brought up from the south, and one merchant even had a few elven blades that looked exquisite but unlikely to do much damage. When Thorin remarked as such, Nerys laughed loud enough to draw a few curious looks. 

Towards midday, Thorin purchased some bread, cheese, cold meats, and apples—much to Nerys’s delight, for the ruby-red fruit from the Greenwood were her favourite—from one of the taverns in the market area and he and Nerys found a spot away from the hubbub of the city and near the water to sit and eat. Nerys was grateful for the respite, as her side had begun to hurt, though the stiffness had gone. She removed her cloak as soon as they were away from those who couldn’t know she was a female dwarf.

“It has not started bleeding again,” Thorin said after a quick examination of the bandage once they were seated in the grass. 

“Good. I think I may head back and rest some more after we eat. I do not want to be a burden on the journey home tomorrow.” She bit off a hunk of the bread which was dense and full of seeds and delicious. “I would like to be able to walk most of the way, but I will not push myself too far,” she added, seeing concern on Thorin’s face. 

“As long as you stick to that promise. I sometimes believe your stubbornness will get you killed.”

Nerys scrunched up her face and tossed the heel of her bread at him. “My stubbornness? You are far worse than me.”

“I doubt that, if half the stories Dwalin and Balin have told are true.”

She laughed and was pleased to find it didn’t cause as much discomfort as she’d been dreading, just a slight pulling. “I would not believe everything my brothers tell you, Thorin. Balin at least as a tendency to embellish his stories.” 

“I have noticed.”

They finished their meal with idle chatter and remained on the bank of the lake for quite a while after they were finished, Nerys nibbling her apple down the core and enjoying every sweet bite. When she was finished, Nerys moved so she was sitting beside Thorin, and he took her hand, lacing his fingers between hers. 

“Thorin, there is something I feel I should tell you,” she said. Her voice was thick with emotion, but she’d spent the entire day warring with herself about this and having finally reached a decision, she was going through with it. “Though I am sure you already know,” she added, squeezing his hand.

“I do know,” he replied quietly. His face was blank, but his eyes were soft, waiting for her to speak. 

Nerys’s cheeks flared to life as she searched for the words to do this without saying it explicitly. That would make it real, make it that much more painful if he rejected her here and now. “I do not expect anything from you, thoughts or feelings or anything, and I will wait until I am considered old enough by most to make this decision properly before I tell anyone else, but you… you are the only one I will choose.” She forced herself to meet his eyes and smile. Her cheeks were brilliantly red and she wanted to say those three words, but she didn’t. 

Thorin didn’t say anything—probably because there wasn’t much he could say to that—but he did lift her hand and place a kiss on the back of it. Nerys smiled and exhaled slowly, relieved that he was not mad and that he had not said no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise appearance by Idhril (the black-haired one) and Armae (the redhead), another of my OCs who features more prominently in The Lord of the Rings, and my friend’s OC for The Hobbit/The Lord of the Rings.


	13. On the Eve of Destruction, Part 1

“You will be taking your swords as well as the bow when you go hunting with Dwalin, correct?” 

Nerys rolled her eyes at Thorin as she crossed the archery range to retrieve the six arrows she’d just finished shooting. Four of them stuck in the target, but only one was anywhere near the centre, and the other two were in the grass somewhere; at least none of them had gone off in a random direction. “Of course,” she answered. “I may be hopeless with my bow, but I am not stupid, though I do have time to practice. Dwalin still has not decided when we will go hunting.” The last was said with some bitterness in her voice—her brothers had become busy with their new obligations and she missed spending time with them.

Thorin smiled as they started back across the range. He handed her the two arrows he’d retrieved from the ground and she returned them to the quiver behind her shoulder. “Dwalin is a brave dwarf for letting you try and bring down some game.”

“Oh, I am sure he will stand well clear of my arrows. Somewhere behind me.”

The dwarf prince chuckled. “That would be wise of him.”

Nerys rolled her eyes again as she lined herself up at the shooting line and took her stance. She strung an arrow and aimed. Thorin corrected the position of her shoulders with a light touch—she was always lifting them when she drew the string back. She gave him a small smile and then exhaled and relaxed her fingers on the string at the same time, the arrow launching across the range with a sharp twang. After repeating the process until her quiver was empty, five arrows stuck out of the target and one sat on the ground, where it had fallen after bouncing off the wooden support. 

“Contrary to what you believe, you have improved,” Thorin said as they crossed the range again. 

“If I have, it’s due to your tutelage. When I practice alone, there are arrows everywhere except my target. I did manage to hit the centre circle once, though it was on the target beside mine.” 

Thorin echoed her laughter. “Let us call it a day, then.”

Once they had gathered the arrows, Nerys hung her bow over her quiver and removed the whole thing from across her chest. She carried it slung over one shoulder as the two dwarves made their way back to the mountain. Nerys noticed as they walked that the sun had almost set completely and she’d been unaware of the passage of time. As if agreeing to the late hour, her stomach rumbled loud enough to be heard by both dwarves.

Since the trip to Esgaroth almost three years ago, Thorin and Nerys had been spending much more time together. He often joined Dwalin in teaching her how to wield her swords, and her archery lessons had become almost a weekly occurrence. She knew he was using the lessons to distract himself from King Thror’s declining state and from Thrain’s refusal to acknowledge the dragon sickness in his father; since Thorin’s sister Dis had been born a few years ago, Thrain’s attention was chiefly reserved for his daughter. When he wasn’t occupied with courtly duties, anyway. Regardless of Thorin’s motivations for it, Nerys was glad of his company and glad to see that their relationship had not suffered under the weight of what she’d told him.

They had not spoken of her confessed feelings since Esgaroth, but she didn’t mind. It was not common for a dwarf woman to express her feelings so young, but it was not unheard of. Nerys’s own mother had barely been thirty years old when she told Fundin she would marry only him, and the story was that Thorin’s mother had been about ten years older than that when she’d declared her love for Thrain. Nerys was content to wait for Thorin to decide how he felt, for even if he did return her feelings, it would be years before they were considered old enough to marry. 

“You look as if you are thinking very hard about something,” Thorin said, drawing Nerys from her mind. 

She shrugged. “Just letting my mind wander,” she replied, though Nerys was pretty sure he knew where her thoughts had been. 

They entered the cool shadows of Erebor, a welcome relief from the late-spring heat, and headed along the paths and through the halls towards Nerys’s house without discussion. The silence they walked in was comfortable and familiar, but even so, Nerys had never been content with silence for long. So, as they walked, she bumped her shoulder against Thorin’s, not hard enough to knock him off balance or because she wanted anything, but just because it was something she had done for a good portion of her life. Thorin chuckled and met the second impact with a nudge of his own, the surprise of it making Nerys stumble. Thorin caught her with his hand around her forearm before she could fall to the stone floor. 

“I did not mean for that to happen,” he said, but since Nerys was laughing, Thorin let himself smile. 

She wrapped her hand around his arm and steadied herself. “Do not worry. You know as well as I do that my brothers have always played rough and that was a move they both favoured.” 

Thorin’s gaze grew serious as he noticed how close she was standing, how she leaned towards him slightly, drawn by the contact of their arms. He studied her face, the slightly crooked set of her smile, and the shine of her eyes in the cold light of Erebor’s halls. Her smile widened and turned a little shy under the weight of his gaze.

“I stopped thinking of you as a sister long ago,” he said. His voice was low, almost as if was surprised to hear those words come out. The thought was not a new one, but he had never voiced it before.

Nerys’s cheeks flushed. She knew the significance of those words. Her eyes dropped to the floor, but she brought them back up quickly and met Thorin’s gaze again; the smile never left her lips, though it did grow confidant again. Her hand tightened on his forearm as he drew her closer. His other hand came up to cup her cheek, his fingers brushing against the hair along her jaw. It tickled and a breathy chuckle escaped her lips. 

“May I take that as your answer then?” she asked.

Thorin smiled as he put his forehead against hers, his nod shallow but noticeable. “I think you may have known my answer before I did.”

Nerys gave that breathy laugh again and reached up with both her hands, his grip on her arm falling away as she moved, to put a hand on either side of his face. The first kiss was just a touch of his lips to the tip of her nose. She closed her eyes and sighed and his lips found hers, the touch similarly light and almost hesitant, as if he was waiting for her to pull away, though he knew she wouldn’t. Instead, she pushed herself up on her toes and deepened the kiss, her arms sliding around his neck and his about her waist, holding her close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, Nerys’s whole attitude towards the situation is based on some knowledge I pulled from the Tolkien Gateway: dwarf women were allowed to choose who they wanted to marry and sometimes would not marry if they couldn’t have the one they wanted. Or would choose not to marry at all. I’m pretty sure the information comes from Gimli at some point in The Lord of the Rings, but I am not positive.


	14. On the Eve of Destruction, Part 2

Nerys was adding more wood to the fire in the kitchen when she heard the front door open and close. The sound of the footsteps told her it was Thorin; he walked quicker and lighter than Dwalin or Balin. She looked up when he entered the kitchen and pushed some of her chestnut hair out of her face. She knew the expression that would greet her: anger and frustration in his drawn brows and blue eyes dark with rage above the deep frown. He had gone to see his grandfather. Evidently it had not gone well. 

“Was he any better today?” she asked without any preamble. 

Thorin looked up as she spoke, almost like he was surprised to see Nerys; considering how deeply he’d been thinking, that was probably the case. His shoulders dropped and shook his head. “Grandfather has been in the treasure room for three days straight now according to Father, and we could not get him to come out.” Thorin leaned heavily on the table, his eyes glued to the pattern of the grain in the dark wood between the scattered utensils. “He would not even hold Dis and he barely acknowledged that there was anyone in the room with him.”

Nerys pressed her lips together and crossed her arms under her chest, her own eyes falling to the glow of the coals in the bottom of the fire. The smells of roasting meat, potatoes, and vegetables had filled the kitchen, but Nerys could only focus on the image of the king rejecting his granddaughter, sweet little girl that she was. Thorin pushed himself away from the table after a few seconds of silence and started pacing around the room. Nerys tracked him with her eyes, her head cocked slightly to one side as she waited for him to speak again or for something useful to occur to her.

“Father has finally admitted that there is something very wrong with Grandfather, and he has assumed most of the duties of the king, but...” He huffed loudly. “I wish there was more that I could do to help Grandfather. Watching him slip away is…”

“Terrible? Impossible?”

He stopped walking and found Nerys’s eyes as she spoke, giving her a small, sad smile. “Yes.”

She sighed and ran her hands backwards over her hair. She hated seeing Thorin so lost and worrying about something he couldn’t control. “I do wish there was something else I could say or do to make this easier, but I don’t know what.”

“You do not need to do more, Nerys.”

She closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her cheek to his shoulder. He returned the embrace, resting his cheek against the top of her head. They spent as long as they could wrapped in each other’s arms before Nerys had to check on the food again, Thorin watching her more with surety around the kitchen, her hair bound in a single tail at the base of her neck, braids and all, instead of flowing freely along her back. She smiled at him when she felt his eyes on her.

“I do hope you are keeping your eyes on the food at least periodically,” Dwalin said, appearing in the doorway. “If you burn dinner because you are too busy making eyes at Thorin—”

Nerys grinned as she grabbed a wooden spoon from the jar on the table and threw it with some force at Dwalin. It smacked against his arm and clattered to the floor, the noise lost to the chuckling. 

It had taken almost three weeks for Balin, Dwalin, Fundin, Thrain, and Thorin’s mother to find out about Thorin and Nerys and declare the betrothal official. They had both known it would happen eventually, but they’d managed to keep their feelings for each other secret for much longer than expected and they had enjoyed sneaking off to steal moments together when they’d had to. Fundin and Thrain had approved of the match, as did Balin and Dwalin, though Dwalin took care to tease his sister as much as possible.

“Will you still be joining me in the morning for a hunt?” Dwalin asked her as he returned the spoon to its proper place.

“Of course. I have been looking forward to it for quite some time, after all.”

He ruffled her hair on his way back out to the main room. “Me too, little one.”

“Dwalin finally found time to go hunting with you then?” Thorin asked when they were alone once more.

Nerys checked on their dinner and, finding it cooked, started pulling the food free of the fire and piling it on two trays, her hands covered with a pair of heavy gloves to avoid burning herself. “Yes, and he has apologized several times for it taking so long, but since he started working with the guard he hasn’t had much time to himself, let alone to go hunting with me.” She removed the gloves and dropped them on the table. 

“Make sure he is well out of range before you fire your bow.”

Nerys scrunched her face up as he laughed and retrieved the wooden spoon. She made to smack Thorin’s shoulder with it, but he caught her arm and used his hold to draw her close. She tried to pull herself free, making a show of it by biting her bottom lip, but it wasn’t really much of an effort. He wrested the spoon from her grasp and wrapped his other hand around the back of her neck as he captured her lips in a kiss. She laughed against his lips and let herself sink into it, her hands coming to rest on his chest, fingers half flexed like she wanted to grab hold. Thorin dropped the spoon on the surface of the table and deepened the kiss, his hands sliding down to her hips.

“Would you like me to take the food out to the dining table?”

Startled, they broke apart quickly. Nerys smiled sheepishly at Balin, her cheeks turning bright red. “I will bring it in,” she said apologetically. 

Balin smiled warmly at her before grabbing one of the platters anyway. Thorin took the other tray and Nerys followed them out in the main room, untying the leather strap that held her hair back while she moved and hoping the blush was gone from her cheeks.


	15. On the Eve of Destruction, Part 3

“Where did you find apples this time of year?”

Thorin smiled as Nerys sat up in the bed, her back against the pillows and the blankets tucked up under her armpits. He climbed back on the bed, and handed her the leather bag of apples he’d had hidden in his cloak as he slid under the blankets as well. “They came from Lothlorien, brought by some travellers to Dale, I believe.” He settled on the blankets beside her and grabbed the apple from her hand. 

Nerys smirked and dropped the rest of the apples on the table beside the bed. She shifted closer to Thorin as he began cutting the apple with the knife he kept on his belt. “Well thank you. I thought I was going to have to wait until the fall to have another apple.” 

“You have not tasted them yet. They may not be worth your praise.” 

Nerys chuckled and took the offered piece off the edge of the blade and popped it in her mouth. She scrunched up her face as if in disgust and Thorin paused with his own piece of apple halfway to his mouth. “No, they’re good!” she laughed, curling up against Thorin’s side after a playful nudge. “The elves are not going to grow imperfect food.”

“I suppose not,” Thorin agreed, smiling down at her. He cut another piece of apple and she took it from his fingers. “They are good. Perhaps we can get your apples all year round.”

“That would certainly make the winters more bearable.” 

Thorin leaned down and kissed her cheek, the curve of her jaw, her neck. Nerys took the apple and the knife from his hands and he swept her hair back, exposing her shoulder. She craned her head to the side and gave a small moan as his kisses trailed down her neck and along her shoulder, one hand slipping under the blanket and along her skin.

“I think we might be able to find other ways to make the winters more bearable now.”

Nerys laughed and turned into him. She caught him in a kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck, being careful of the knife in her hand. He laughed into the kiss, his hands sliding around and up her back, the blanket falling to her lap. She lifted herself up so she could straddle his lap, Thorin adjusting the blankets around them. She broke the kiss and sat back a bit, the mass of her hair still hanging over one shoulder. With another smirk, she cut another piece of apple and pressed it to his lips, a darker laugh escaping when he took it, his lips slipping over her fingertips.

“Oh, I think you might be right about that,” she answered, lifting the apple to her lips and taking a bite. 

Thorin reached up and wiped the juice off her chin with his thumb before bringing it to his lips. “How long do you think Dwalin will keep you on the hunt tomorrow?”

“Until one of us brings something down, I imagine.” She took another bite of the apple and offered the last bit to Thorin. “You know he does not like to come home without a prize.” When Thorin had freed his hands of the apple, she leaned in for another kiss. “So you had better get all of me you can now, because it is very possible you will not see me tomorrow.”

-

It was very early when Nerys awoke. She wouldn’t have been surprised to find that the sun hadn’t risen yet. For a few moments, she remained still and listened to the sound of Thorin breathing deeply, enjoyed the feel of his arm stretched across her stomach. Her eyes closed for a moment, the warmth of her bed and of Thorin beside her threatening to pull her back under, but she forced herself to keep her eyes open, to stay awake. She really had been looking forward to this hunting trip for a while—more for the company of her big brother than the actual hunting—and she wasn’t about to sleep through it. 

Moving slowly in an attempt to keep Thorin from waking, she disengaged herself from his arms and climbed out from underneath the covers. She padded about the room, gathering up and changing into the breeches and tunic that were her hunting clothes and braiding her hair into a single tail, heedless of the braids and beads already decorating her hair; if she left any of them free, the noise of the beads hitting one another had a tendency to scare off potential game.

“Nerys?”

She cursed under her breath as she finished braiding her hair and turned back to face the bed, an apologetic smile on her face. “I did not mean to wake you,” she whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

He shifted over so he could put a hand on her side. The smile he gave her in response was lazy and imbued with laughter. “You need to learn to move more stealthily then.”

Nerys scrunched her face up and bent over to give him a kiss. “Go back to sleep, Thorin. You do not have any reason to be up before the sun.”

Thorin lay back on the pillows and watched sleepily as she pulled on and laced up her boots. “Perhaps I should join you two.”

“I suspect Dwalin wants to play big brother for a bit and that might be hard to do if you are there.” Nerys pulled her coat on and buttoned it before pulling her hair free and rolling the sleeves back, exposing the bracer on her left arm. “You are distracting to both of us, though for entirely different reasons.” She leaned over the bed again and kissed him deeply, her fingers sliding through his beard. “To be honest, I miss spending time with my brothers, though I knew this would happen as we got older.”

“Go on then and have a good time. I will attempt to enjoy the long-winded court proceedings today.”

“You are going to be king one day, Thorin. You should probably try and get used to those long-winded proceedings.” With one last kiss, she straightened, casually flicking the braid that hung down below Thorin’s chin. “I will not sit in on those for you.”

Thorin chuckled and settled back into the bed. “I would not ask that of you, my future queen. I would not wish that on my worst enemy.”

Nerys threw another smile at him as she stood at the door. “You have no enemies.” She lingered a moment longer before he gestured for her to go. “I will see you this evening then, my future king.”

Still smiling, she left the house, deciding at the last minute that she wouldn’t need her swords while they were hunting—if her arrows failed, Dwalin would take care of their targets with his axes. He was probably more than anxious to use them on something other than the practice targets they used while training the guard anyway. With one last hesitation and urge to go jump back into bed, Nerys left the house, humming to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have the first prequel to my main fic! Up next is The Adventures of Tiny Astrid, which focuses on my other OC. Hopefully you enjoyed this fic and it gave you a bit of insight into the relationship between Nerys and Thorin! See you soon!


End file.
